ded to the impenetrability of the storm did
'Merican Joe halt. In the whirling blizzard, without protection of
timber, one place was as good as another to camp, and while the Indian
busied himself with the dogs Connie proceeded to dig a trench in the
snow. This trench was as long as the toboggans, and wide enough to
accommodate the two sleeping bags placed side by side. Three feet down
the boy struck ice. The sleeping bags, primus stove, and part of the
food were dumped into the trench. The loaded toboggans were tipped on
edge, one along either side, and the heavy canvas shelter tarp was
stretched over these and weighted down by doubling its edges under the
toboggans. The open ends were blocked with snow, the dogs fed and left
to make their own beds, and the two crawled into their snug quarters
where by the light of a candle they prepared a good hot meal on the
little stove and devoured it in warmth and comfort while the storm
roared harmlessly over their heads.

For two days they were storm bound, venturing out only to feed the dogs
and from time to time to relieve the tarp roof of its burden of snow.
The third day dawned cold and clear, and daylight found the outfit on
the move. They were following a creek bed, and the depth of the snow,
together with the easing of the slope, permitted the use of both teams.
No halt was made at noon and when they camped at dark they estimated
they had made fifteen miles. Five days of fair cold weather followed and
each night found them from fifteen to eighteen miles from the camp of
the night before. No game had been sighted, but on two of the nights
Leloo had left camp, and once, from some ridge far to the northward,
they had heard his long-drawn howl of the kill.

On the sixth day another storm broke. They were following the
snow-covered bed of a fair-sized river which Connie hoped would prove to
be the head-waters of the Gravel, which empties into the Mackenzie some
forty-five miles above Fort Norman. They had left the highest mountains
behind, and patches of timber appeared at frequent intervals along the
banks of the stream. As the storm thickened they camped, setting up
their tent in the shelter of a thicket, and in the morning they pushed
on despite the storm. It was nearly noon when Connie called to 'Merican
Joe, and when the Indian made his way back, the boy pointed to Leloo.
The great wolf-dog had halted in the traces and stood with nose up
sniffing the air, while the huge